


world without sound

by sky_blue_hightops



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Post-Apocalypse, Sibling Bonding, Violins, just a simple lil piece, they are good siblings fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18111341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: Five finds a violin in the rubble.





	world without sound

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Given and Denied by Poets of the Fall, which inspired this fic tbh

The violin case had been an unmistakable shape in the rubble.

He'd been walking the lengths of the suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, hunting for more food, any food that would last longer, before his tired eyes landed on the dull black case lying quietly on the sidewalk.

_"It's beautiful," he remarked. Vanya ignored the uninterested note to his voice._

_"I'm going to learn how to play it," she insisted. "It has...so much potential." She paused, something sad flickering across her face, before she brightened again. "I could learn Mom's favorite songs!"_

_Five glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, appraising. Evaluating. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer. "I bet she'd love that, Vanya."_

He hadn't even hesitated before scrambling over fragmented bricks and ruined mailboxes, popping the latches on the case and pushing it open, at the protest of the old metal hinges. Inside sat a violin - cheap-looking, dusty, but otherwise unharmed.

He plucked a string. It sounded horribly out of tune. The note echoed in the empty air around them.

He plucked it again.

_Five sat on his bed, pencil loosely gripped in one hand and his math textbook balanced on his knees. From down the hall, the sound of someone playing the violin floated, shaky and stuttered. He huffed a sigh, slamming the book shut on the lesson for the day and appearing directly in Vanya's room._

_She didn't even flinch at her brother materializing a few feet before her face, merely lowering her bow and puffing a breath at the strands of hair falling loose from her ponytail. "I can't get it...I don't understand, I- ugh! It's dumb, but normally...normally Mom's here to listen to me play."_

_Five folded his legs and sat where he stood, interlocking his fingers. "I've heard I'm efficient with my criticism," he commented wryly. "I'm sure I could prove a suitable replacement."_

His first rule for surviving was to not carry things he didn't need.

His hand tightened around the neck, the strings digging into his palm.

It took a spot in his wagon next to Delores.

_Watching Vanya play with all the confidence she could for the first time was almost enough to make him forget everything else._

_She played something bittersweet - fast, then slow, something sad, then uplifting - something rich and complex and far beyond his understanding. Her eyes remained fixed on her hands, as they drifted from note to note with passion, with pride._

_Five couldn't move from his spot on her bed, transfixed, and in that moment decided 'special' wasn't a thing so easily defined as by superpowers, or obedience._

_No matter how much time had passed, both in this life and past all life, he could never forget the melody._

It was weeks before he found the courage to open the case again. He told himself he was afraid of breaking it, or getting it dirty. The tremble in his hands at the feeling of the smooth, glossy wood told a different story altogether.

The silence of the apocalypse was oppressing. All-consuming.

He decided he was done with simply warding it off, with talking to himself or Delores, with humming, with the noise of the wagon wheels. He was done waiting for the silence to break him.

He wanted to break _it_.

_Vanya's fingers closed around his, guiding them to the right strings. "That's it," she encouraged quietly. "Relax your shoulders, bend your elbow...there you go."_

_Five shifted according to her directions, letting her remove the bow from his grasp. She placed his hand on it correctly, then tapped his right elbow. "Bend it more...okay. Do you remember what I taught you yesterday?"_

_He hummed the first few notes, frowning. "Like that?"_

_She cracked a small smile, shaking her head. "Not quite." She hummed the notes again, this time in tune. "Like_ that _." She brushed the strings on the neck. "So you'll want this one, then these two. Hold the last one."_

It wasn't hard to find the highest point in the area, a mountain of rubble that had once been a house on the edge of the neighborhood. He slung the case over his back with Delores's scarf, positioned her carefully, attentively at the foot of the pile (much like how he had watched Vanya play, all those years ago), and climbed with both hands.

The wind battered him strongly, but his grip didn't falter. He stomped down on the concrete chunks piled below him once or twice, ensuring it wouldn't collapse below him, before digging his heels in and settling the case between two larger pieces. He made quick work of the latches, and pulled the instrument from its case.

It seemed to thrum, in his hands - what had Vanya said? _It has so much potential_ , his sister whispered, her voice still clear in his memories.

He could still see the bittersweet look on her face. _You did, too,_ he thought. He could still feel the pain in the words she had written.  _I wish I could've grown up with you._

He lifted it, rested it on his shoulder, raised the bow. It took a few tries to find the first note, a few frustrated breaths, but when it finally squeaked out into the still air, a tension he hadn't noticed himself carrying around eased. Each note came easier than the last, coaxed out with each drag of the bow, drawn not with passion but with grief, and loneliness, and a million other things he didn't want to name.

He closed his eyes. He could still see her smile. 

The sound of the strings rang in his ears for days, weeks, months afterwards.


End file.
